#now one thing I should definitely do at some point is go grab a gassy moo for the museum but thats a maybe project

[arolesbianism]

Oh baby I am getting way to ambitious with my current oni run for someone who's laptop starts screaming anytime it opens steam

[teddy-bear-surprise]

hi!! how are you? i seen your post about wanting to write headcannons or blurbs and i didn't know if you wanted them to be birthday related but osbddkndjdd staying up until exactly 12 am with peter and once it hits, the reader gives him a bunch of kisses & let's him now how happy she is to be with him!!!

This story is also available on AO3 and Wattpad!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I'm doing great today and I hope you are too <3

MASTERLIST

Title: Midnight Birthday

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: None (they joke around about poop and farts, which makes me sound immature, but I promise it’s funny and not like serious)

Context needed: Y/N

I deviated slightly from the prompt on accident, but I hope you enjoy it :)

Your phone rang loudly for the third time, prompting you to finally pick up. Normally, you would ignore everyone’s phone calls, but you realized that Peter was the one calling you. You had set a special ringtone for him, just so this wouldn’t happen, yet he still had to call multiple times just to get your attention.

“Hey, Peter! Sorry I didn’t pick up before… You know how it is, right?”

Peter chuckled on the other end of the line, “Yeah, I know. We should really come up with a better system for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if there was an emergency and they had to call you. I know you can’t see me right now, but just the thought gave me goosebumps.”

You heard him shudder, “I’m sure you’re very goosebumpy, Spider-Kid.”

“Hey!” He asserted jokingly, “You know that I prefer ‘Spider-Man’, you know that. And don’t be mean to me! I’m over here calling to invite you out to dinner and this is what I get? I am beyond hurt. I will never recover.” Peter emphasized each word as sarcastically as he possibly could.

“Oh, get over yourself drama queen. Spider-Boy, Spider-Kid, Spider-Man, it’s all the same thiiinnggggg. Just take the compliment, hun. In thirty years– when you’re all old, wrinkly, and a Spider-Senior –you’ll be missing the days when people called you Spider-Kid. Now, what were you saying about dinner?”

“I said I wanted to invite you out to dinner! Were you not listening?”

You rolled your eyes and wished he could see your face right now. “I got that part, genius. I meant like what kind of dinner… Y’know, Where? When? The details, Pete, the details.”

“Oohhhh, that would make sense.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “I was thinking that we could go to that restaurant you love, you know the one you were talking about the other day… Ummmm I think it was called Sveleka? Right? So we could go there around 7…”

Peter’s voice trailed off as he tried to remember the details of his plan and you cut in. “It’s Veselka, but that would be great, Pete. I’ll see you there at 7, love you.”

You hung up the phone before Peter even got a chance to reply. Your phone skills were rudimentary, to say the least, and it always got you into trouble. Luckily, Peter understood your bizarre hatred of phones and phone calls, allowing you to talk to him without worrying too much.

You knew that his birthday was tomorrow and you had developed a plan of your own. It was supposed to be a surprise, and the last thing you were expecting was for him to ask you out to dinner the night before his own birthday. In a way, it made you appreciate him even more, knowing that he loved you enough to randomly call you and ask you out to dinner. But now, thanks to his unexpected decision, you only had two hours to rearrange everything before meeting up with him for dinner. You stared at the giant teddy bear sitting on your bed and sighed. Even though your plan was technically easier to carry out now, you felt a twinge of annoyance about having to modify your schedule.

Originally, you wanted to sneak into Peter’s apartment, along with May’s help, and surprise him with a giant teddy bear that said “I love you” when you hugged it. Ideally, you would get there right at midnight, as the night turned from August 9th to 10th, and show him that you cared. That you cared about his birthday, his happiness, and his wellbeing.

You shook away the thought and positioned the teddy bear so that it looked like it wanted to give you a hug. In between its warm, fluffy arms, you placed a small box. This box was technically Peter’s real present. It contained a small, circular locket with one half of a glass spider and a key. In the very same box, you included a long handwritten note telling Peter how much you loved him and how proud you were of him. Once you rearranged the box and bear to your liking, you began to get ready.

The closet of your apartment was minuscule, as was the whole place, and the limited space had led you to develop a very limited wardrobe. Your outfits only consisting of basic black pieces, one dark green jacket, and three pairs of shoes. Peter always joked that he loved how your closet all looked the same, claiming that it made it easier to find you if you ever got lost in a crowd. You both knew that was far from true since everyone in Manhattan loves wearing black, but you appreciated that he was so kind about your unconventional fashion decision.

You grabbed a simple, long black skirt and a silky black tank top, changing out of your pajamas. It might have been five o’clock in the afternoon, but pajamas stayed on until you left the house. That was just the rule. While you fixed your hair and makeup, you began to worry that Peter would figure out your plan. It was a slightly irrational thought, especially since he was socially inept and on multiple occasions forgot when his birthday was. Still, the thought plagued your mind until the moment you were ready to leave.

As you walked to Grand Central station, you texted Aunt May, letting her know that the plan had changed. May had been the biggest supporter of you and Peter’s relationship from the start. Honestly, she was the only one you could trust because she was the only one who could keep both your and Peter’s identities a secret. You hopped onto the Six heading downtown, hoping that she would reply before your service completely cut out.

You: Hi, May. Peter invited me out for dinner at the last minute so we might have to rearrange a bit.

May: This is why I told you to make plans with him ahead of time, so we wouldn’t run into any bumps like this.

You: I know, sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to do this.

May: I was kind of expecting it… I made a bet with myself that he would do this and it looks like I won!

You: You bet on us?? Is this like a reoccurring thing???

May: Definitely not. That would be immature. I’d never do that.

You shook your head at your phone, laughing at how obvious it was that May bet on your and Peter’s relationship. To you, May was like a second mother, or just a really cool aunt. She seemed to understand how to be just serious enough, but not stiff. Not to mention that she was ten times nicer and more supportive of you than your actual mom.

You: I’m gonna pretend that the last part of the conversation never happened. But what I wanted to tell you was that I’m going to meet Peter for dinner around 7 at Veselka so I won’t be able to go back to my apartment and then to Peter’s in time. I just left the bear at my apartment and I’m thinking of asking Peter to go home with me after we eat, what do you think?

May: Sounds like a solid plan, kiddo. Good luck, and please don’t let Peter eat too many of those sauerkraut pierogies this time, he was gassy for two days. It wasn’t fun.

You: Thanks for the gross heads-up, May. Byeeee

You got off at Astor Place and walked in silence towards the restaurant. You were looking at the ground, head hanging low, when Peter called out to you from across the street.

“Y/N, hi!”

You looked up at him and smiled at the goofy boy waving at you. “Hi, Peter!”

Jogging across the street, you made eye contact with him. He held out a hand towards you, helping you onto the sidewalk, and embraced you. Peter kissed the top of your head softly and gave you one last squeeze before letting go.

“So, I guess we’re both early then. I gotta say that I’m shocked, Parker. I wasn’t expecting you to get here before me.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” Peter winked at you.

---

The two of you merrily ate your dinner, with Peter threatening to instigate a food fight more than once. You talked about anything and everything, by the time you two were ready to pay the bill, it was almost 11 and you were stuffed.

Peter rubbed his hand on his stomach, poking at it, “I think it would be physically impossible for me to eat any more. Like I would just spchwoooo,” he mimicked an explosion with his hands, “explode.”

“I’m just glad we didn’t order any of those sauerkraut pierogies, May said they made you all gassy last time. I don’t even want to know what would have happened if you ate those and the stuffed cabbage.”

“What?! May said that? I never get gassy. Ever.” Peter lowered his voice, “I’m literally superhuman, it takes more than some sauerkraut and cabbage to mess with this iron stomach.”

“That’s not even close to being true. You had explosive diarrhea after that burrito two weeks ago, and don’t blame the food, you were the only one out of the three of us who got sick. Did you forget that May and I had to take you to the hospital? Because I don’t think that counts as an ‘iron stomach’.”

The two of you argued about stomachs, diarrhea, and food the rest of the way to your apartment, stopping every few minutes to point out airplanes flying overhead. You insisted on walking home so you could arrive almost exactly at midnight. Plus having Spider-Man by your side was basically a guarantee of safety, even in Manhattan. Peter held your hand the whole time, swinging it like a smitten teenager. After walking nearly fifty blocks, you arrived at your apartment. You noticed that Peter seemed hesitant, only lightly resting his foot on the first step leading up the building.

“C’mon, let’s watch a movie or something. I don’t want you to leave yet.” You pouted and tugged on Peter’s hand, pulling him up into the doorway.

“Well then, I guess I’m not leaving.”

---

The two of you were cuddled on your small couch watching Buzzfeed Unsolved, Peter’s favorite show, but you weren’t paying attention. Every few seconds your eyes would dart up at the clock, waiting for the hour hand to strike 12. Peter was entranced, never letting his attention deviate from the screen, and he didn’t even notice that you weren’t looking at the TV. The minutes went by slowly and you were counting down the seconds until midnight, gripping onto Peter’s arm. He thought that you were just scared by the prospect of unsolved murders, not that you were anxiously waiting for his birthday.

The last second passed and the clock struck 12, you immediately jumped out of Peter’s embrace and turned to him. Peter sat up in shock, confused by your sudden movement. You took the opportunity to straddle him and grab his face.

“Happy birthday, My Love.”

You peppered his face with sweet kisses and his eyes widened. His body softened under your touch as a feeling of love and happiness filled his heart. Peter snaked his hands up your thighs, letting them rest on your hips, and squeezed softly. You gave him one last kiss on the lips and rested your forhead against his.

“I have a surprise for you, Birthday Boy.” You lifted yourself off of his lap and held your hand out to him.

Peter took your hand and followed you obediently, curious to see what his surprise was. You opened the door to your room, revealing the large stuffed bear and its matching box. Peter let go of your hand and excitedly ran towards your bed.

Before he could say anything, you began speaking, “I know it’s not much, and I know you probably thought that I’d have like a trail of rose petals in here or something like that. But I wanted to show you that my love for you isn’t just about our physical relationship, my love for you i-is emotional and wholesome. I love you, Peter Parker. I truly love you and I’m so happy that you’re mine. I mean, every morning I wake up, I remember that I’m dating you, and that makes me the happiest person in the world.” You reached over to the box in Peter’s hands, “So, Peter Parker, will you accept this key?”

You opened the box and Peter’s cheeks glowed red. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded his head.

“Yes! I love you so much too. I- Thank you,” He paused, “Oh no. Wait, I don’t have a key for yo–”

“Pete, this is your birthday present. I wouldn’t expect you to give me a gift on your birthday, silly.”

He rambled energetically, “You’re right… I’m still going to get you a copy though. Oh my gosh. I love this so much, and is this a spider because I’m Spider-Man?! Where’s the other half? This is so cool!”

You held up your matching locket, opening it to reveal the other half. “Yep, it is because you’re Spider-Boy. The best superhero in town. And, don’t throw away the little note at the bottom. Well, don’t open it now, but if you ever need a reminder of how much I love you, just read that note.”

Peter held your hands in his and pulled you down, both of you crashing into the giant teddy bear. The second you fell onto it, it blurted a freakish, distorted “I love you”, scaring both of you. You jumped up and looked at a wide-eyed Peter.

“Y’know, maybe we don’t need the bear. I don’t really want to be on the next episode of Unsolved.”

You laughed at Peter’s joke, pushing the bear onto the ground and kissed him. His soft lips tasted like the blueberry dessert you shared and his skin was as soft as butter.

You pulled away, foreheads resting together once more. Peter whispered, “Thank you for giving me the happiest midnight birthday, darling.”

[anywhozits]

All I Really Want Chapter 3

Rating: T

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Chapter Summary: A look into Kristoff and Anna's best friend Friday night tradition. 

Notes: I apologize in advance for my dumb sense of humor ;) 

Read on Ao3

Kristoff and Anna sat at their favorite hole-in-the-wall and somewhat ramshackle diner, Oaken’s House, on a decidedly crisp but also unseasonably warm March evening. It was windy, a little bit at least, so they opted to sit indoors.

The food was… decent. Only once had they gotten food poisoning and they’d since decided to never mention that again. Or was getting food poisoning even once a bad thing?

Oh well. They loved Oaken’s anyway.

And tonight, they were back with gusto. In his typical fashion, Oaken had welcomed them with a huge smile and his adorable sing-songy voice before leading them to their favorite inside table.

They sat on the diner’s signature extremely uncomfortable white plastic chairs and then they ordered their usual—a combination of something so gross but also so perfect that they came to the reasonable conclusion that they could never deviate. Absolutely any time they found themselves at Oaken’s House on a Friday night they ordered mozzarella sticks plus an Oreo milkshake.

Two delicacies that on their own sounded pretty normal... but Anna and Kristoff were the type to assure absolutely everyone they ever came in contact with that they were far from normal. So naturally they dipped those mozzarella sticks in the milkshake. Hardcore. At least five dips a stick. And the dairy overload was enough to send them over to an entirely new level of friendship since Anna always got super gassy after these nights and Kristoff of course cared absolutely zero.

The best tradition. Their favorite tradition.

Mouth already half full of milkshake covered mozzarella stick, Anna spoke, “Hans and I are going to Five Crowns tomorrow.”

“Ooh. Fancy.” Kristoff raised his eyebrows.

“Mmhmm,” Anna said, already prepping her next bite by dipping, dipping, and dipping it into the milkshake. “I’ve only been there once for my dad’s birthday, too. It was a whole six-hour affair and I totally cried because it was so boring. Like.” She popped it into her mouth. Chew, chew, chew. “So. Boring.”

Kristoff gave her a sympathetic smile. A smile she appreciated. Because... there were a lot of people in her life she felt she could never dish about her parents to. Never, ever. It was like…

She had much to be thankful for, sure. She didn’t have to worry about money the way Kristoff did. She didn’t have to worry about much at all, really.

So sometimes she felt guilty complaining.

But Kristoff… Kristoff never made her feel guilty. Kristoff made her feel like every single eye roll, every single annoyed grumble, every single ounce of negativity that coated the relationship with her family was completely founded.

And that meant the world to her.

She was thankful for him—always. Every single day. Even if it meant she was just a little sister in his eyes. Yes, she definitely still shuddered at that thought. But.

Even if…

It was worth it. Because she had him. She had Friday nights at Oaken’s House.

And… she had him.

She had someone who would talk with her and listen to her and really understand her.

She had him…

“What’s the latest on your status with Hans? Are you um… boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever?” Kristoff’s voice snapped her out of her train of thought. Her head jerked a little bit at the jarring sensation of rejoining reality and a piece of mozzarella stick fell from her mouth to the table.

Both Anna and Kristoff laughed. Classic Anna.

And when she shrugged and popped the fallen mozzarella stick back in her mouth, Kristoff laughed harder.

“I’m sorry, Kris. I think I blacked out there for a second.” She giggled again. “What did you say?”

“I was asking,” he started. “About Hans. You know—what you’re—um… if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend—”

“Oh. No. He hasn’t said anything about that. I think we’re just…” She didn’t want to say friends. Because they weren’t really just friends. In fact—just friends was exactly what Anna and Kristoff were. And Hans and Anna had a much different relationship than she and Kristoff had…

Like… there was no way in the literal seventh ring of hell that Anna and Hans were at the same stage in a relationship as Anna and Kristoff were. Because—well, she and Hans were in love with one another. Literally in love. For real in love. Not the friendship love she had with Kristoff. That maybe teetered on romantic love sometimes. But not all the time. And…um. Never mind.

Back to Hans. She loved Hans for real. 100% of the time she had romantic love for Hans. Plus they’d said they loved each other probably two hundred times since the night they met. So they loved each other. Duh.

But… maybe they were just friends. Friends with… benefits? Okay. Benefits. Yes. That was what set her relationship with Hans apart. Those two words. With. Benefits. She had no benefits with Kristoff.

She gulped. “I think we’re just friends.”

“But… you love him?” Kristoff’s face contorted into a scowl as he chomped on another sweet and oozing mozzarella stick.

“Mmhmm,” she said, slurping up some of the milkshake.

“You loved him after one night?”

“Mmhmm.” Anna giggled a little bit. They had definitely talked about this before. Kristoff loved bringing up the whole I-love-you-on-the-first-night business.

“Shit.”

And he always reacted the same way. So judgy, Kristoff. For someone who didn’t know anything about love or relationships or... other stuff like that.

Anna pouted playfully. “What gives, Kris? Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?” She made a show of batting her eyes when she said this.

But Kristoff was far from amused. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out his bottom lip. “Sure I have. I just don’t believe in it is all.”

“Okay,” she huffed. “Fine.”

“He says he loves you too?”

“He said it first. If you remember. I told you all this like, the morning after.” And probably six or seven times since then… he couldn’t let it rest.

“Yeah.”

Anna sighed. He seemed grumpier about this than usual. “Are you trying to use some super coded Kristoff-speak to tell me you don’t like him or something?”

“He’s whatever,” Kristoff mumbled.

“So, you don’t like him.”

He didn’t answer for a bit; his sustained silence already proving her point. They’d never bridged this part of the Hans conversation before. It always stopped after Kristoff denied the existence of love at first sight and abruptly changed the subject.

But eventually, he spoke up. “Does it matter what I think?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“But does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I like him all right. I guess. But… I don’t really know him. I don’t really know anything about him at all. Wait—how much do you even know about the guy?”

Oh, snap. Was he jealous? Why did Anna get the sense that maybe he was jealous? Or... maybe he was just concerned. Not jealous. Because he cared about her. Because he was her best friend. That made sense. That definitely made the most sense.

Not jealous.

“I know you’re worried, Kris. It’s cute. I appreciate it. But I can deal with it myself, okay?”

His eyes were downcast onto the plate. He played with the mozzarella stick a little bit. “Okay.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” Anna said cheerily, reaching out to tug on the sleeve of his gray Volcom hoodie so he looked up at her. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

And then she impulsively grabbed his free hand and held it, noting and admiring the fact that the weight of his big, calloused hands made her feel a healthy mix of safe and comforted and respected. He smiled softly at her, squeezing her hand.

Her heartbeat quickened, butterflies unleashed themselves in her belly, and she pulled her hand away, kind of terrified.

They’d held hands before… as just friends. But she’d never had this visceral of a reaction to it.

She had Hans. She loved Hans. She needed to focus on him. Not get way too attached to someone who would never like her back.

The second she gathered her thoughts, though, she heard the loud and unmistakable sound of her breaking wind. Cutting the cheese. Whatever.

She giggled. “Oops—my bad—gassy!” And then she started laughing uncontrollably, covering her face in her hands.

Kristoff joined in, unrestrained laughter making tears pool in his eyes.

But then Anna reached for the milkshake, gearing up to take a few more sips. Kristoff furrowed his eyebrows, still laughing, still crying and yelled, “Anna!”

“What? You gotta get used to my gas, man. Comes with the territory.”

“Oh, I’m plenty used to it.”

“Good. Now pass me another mozz stick.”

And he did.

Mouth once again full, Anna decided to change the subject. “So how are things going with Pissed Off Kids?” Pissed Off Kids was the band Kristoff and his other best friend Sven had founded in the fifth grade as one of the action items on their long list of ‘ways to stage the ultimate rebellion.’ They played their music in Sven’s garage and took breaks to skateboard. It was all incredibly cliché.

“We’ve got a gig next weekend. If you wanna come. It’s at this random place in Anaheim, but they’re paying all right. I doubt many people are gonna make it out there—”

Anna rolled his eyes. “As if, Kris. You’re gonna pack the place and you know it.”

His cheeks flushed red. “Well, um… either way it should be fun. Gotta test out some of our new stuff.”

“Covers or original?” Anna seen enough of his shows to know Pissed off Kids’ typical cover song rotation. Usually any number of songs off of Green Day’s Dookie, The Offspring’s Smash, or Blink-182’s Cheshire Cat. Nirvana was deemed too holy to even attempt to replicate. Kristoff’s words, of course. RIP Kurt Cobain.

“Both.”

“Awesomesauce,” Anna beamed. She loved hearing about his music. He was just so passionate about it—literally everything related to alternative and grunge rock. If he really got going, he could talk her ear off about the intricacies of the movement itself, how it had grown, how each of his favorite bands added their own flavor and their own perspective. She loved it. Every single second of it. “Tell me about the new ones you wrote.”

“Ah, well… there’s only one of those.” He popped another mozzarella stick into his mouth. “It’s called When. Mostly written by Sven.”

“Ooh it’s all rhymey and poetic already.”

Kristoff laughed. “I guess I wrote most of the chorus, though. Come to think of it.”

“Of course you did. Because you’re the best songwriter slash guitar-player slash singer who’s ever walked this earth.”

“I bet there are a lot of other people who deserve that title.”

“No,” she said. “Just you.”

“Kurt Cobain, for one.”

She ignored him entirely. “So… When, huh? Sounds so… emo?”

Anna raised her eyebrows at Kristoff, trying to gauge his reaction. Was she hot or was she cold?

His left eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Confirmed. His new song was definitely emo.

“Okay, right. No duh it’s emo. Noted. But… that’s obvious coming from you,” Anna said. Kristoff chuckled softly in response. “All right! I’ve got a great idea. Let me guess the chorus. Okay?”

He laughed again. “Okay. Have at it.”

“Ummm…” she scrunched her lips together tightly, thinking, thinking, thinking. “When… will my best friend stop insisting we drink milkshakes every week because they make her fart up a storm?”

Kristoff laughed. “Nope. Try again.”

Anna furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “When… will Anna give in to my begging and decide she wants to learn how to skateboard, so we can finally go to the skate park together?”

His laughs intensified as he reached to take a sip of the milkshake. “No!”

“Huh. Weird. I really thought those made the most sense…” Now she laughed. “OH! I’ve got it this time: When will my best friend in the entire world finally get it through her head that she’s not someone who can make the word dude work?”

Kristoff started laughed so hard that he couldn’t catch his breath. Soon enough, a little bit of Oreo milkshake shot out of his nose and then trickled down his upper lip.

Noticing this, Anna lost it. Completely.

The sight of white liquid with chunks of black cookie rolling down his face paired with the sight of him clutching his face in an unfortunate brain-freeze like state sent her into a frenzy.

Kristoff shot only-somewhat playful daggers at her. “You can’t make me laugh when I’m drinking a milkshake!”

“Well, you shouldn’t drink a milkshake when I’m being funny!” Anna grinned. “Which is all the time, really. So guess milkshakes are out. I’m too gassy and you’re too… into-my-jokes.”

“Not funny,” Kristoff said. “That kinda hurt. It was like… one big brain-freeze.”

“Um—dude? Chill out.”

He smirked. “I stand by it. You can’t pull off dude.”

“Would’ve been an epic song lyric, though,” Anna offered, but Kristoff shook his head. “So what is it, then? Your big brilliant title-sequence chorus lyric thingie?”

“It’s…” Kristoff took a deep breath, a flash of drama overcoming his face as he began to speak, “When will the clouds finally part?”

“Ah.” Anna nodded. “See? Emo.”

“I guess.” Shrugging, Kristoff looked down at the table, bashful all of a sudden.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, though. It’s been awhile since you’ve written one about me.”

Kristoff looked back up and caught her gaze. “I’ve never written a song about you, Anna.”

“Mmhmm,” Anna teased. “A likely story.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I!”

They both burst out into uncontrolled laughter. Kristoff clutched his face in a futile attempt to keep the milkshake very much out of his nose which only made Anna double over in the chair, hyperventilating with giggles.

Kristoff’s laughter was contagious. Anna could laugh for hours and hours only answering to Kristoff’s unamused smirk but when Kristoff laughed… it was like everything in Anna’s soul shifted into place. She didn’t have to think about anything but that moment—their relationship. The warmth and kindness that his laughter evoked made Anna’s heart swell.

She would do just about anything to hear that laugh.

Once they both calmed, she took a moment to look at him. He smiled so widely that his eyes crinkled. That also made her heart swell. “You said your show’s next weekend?”

“Yeah. Saturday night at 11.”

“Ah, well,” Anna shrugged, trying to hide her growing smile. “That’s past my bedtime.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Hey! You stole my punch line! I was gonna say ‘That’s past my bedtime…NOT’ but then you have to jump in with your whole Grumpy McGrump Buzzkill business.”

“I’m sorry, feistypants,” he said, chuckling.

“Thank you.” She smiled again. “And I was kidding, seriously. You know I’ll be there.”

His eyes crinkled again as he grinned widely, sincerely, softly. “I know.”

And she would. She’d always be there for him. Be there with him. Always.

[how-to-survive-a-factory-tour]

How to Survive A Factory Tour - Chapter 10

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Fanfiction

PREVIOUS

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The best way I can think to describe this wonderful room is this: Wonka took Sugar Rush from Wreck it Ralph, that bit in Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs when it’s snowing ice cream, Sweet Sweet Canyon from Mario Kart, and mixed them all together onto one island. And the result is magnificent.

We’re standing on a dock by the door, and on the other side of a fizzy yellow sea is an island where everything is made from desserts. There’s a mountain which is a large tiered cake, hills that are ice cream scoops, and - if my expert Disney park knowledge serves me correctly - a volcano in the centre that is the volcano dessert from the Rainforest Café.

“Did I die? Because I think I’m in heaven…” Patton mumbles, eyes wide and sparkling.

Wonka hops into a small rowing boat with just enough room for all six of us. The rest of us all join him, and he starts rowing us across the sea to the island.

“Just like before, you are free to roam about yourselves. However, can you head to the east beach after fifteen to twenty minutes? There’s something exciting I want to show you.”

Patton leans over the side of the boat, dipping his finger into the yellow sea. He pulls it out, trying a little. “It’s lemonade!”

“Right you are!” Wonka responds. “The fizziest, tastiest lemonade in the world.”

Almost to punctuate the ‘fizziest’ part, Patton lets out a small burp. “Oops, sorry…”

“It must be rather powerful if Patton burped after such a small amount…” Logan speaks up. “Is it actually safe to consume larger volumes?”

“Of course! Nothing leaves the Inventing Room until it is perfect. The lemonade has been thoroughly tested,” Wonka assures.

I dip my finger to try some lemonade as well. However, as I do, I swear I see a dark shadow in the water…

Eh, it’s probably just the boat creating a shadow.

I sit back up, tasting the lemonade, and letting my own little burp out.

“Wow, Princey, didn’t expect you to be so uncouth,” Virgil smirks.

“Princey? Hm… I like it. Keep calling me that.”

Virgil just rolls his eyes.

“So we can just try anything like last time?” Patton asks, receiving a nod from Wonka in response.

“Nothing’s taboo, like the river in the last room?” Logan inquires.

“Nothing at all. No accidents have occurred in this room ever, and I trust you to be responsible enough to keep it that way.”

The boat pulls up onto the beach of the island. Wonka hops out, and we follow suit, the sand crunching under our feet. Patton seems to have taken the designated role of taste tester, leaning down and picking up a handful of sand, before pouring it in his mouth. “Crushed up graham crackers!”

“Correct again,” Wonka nods. “Now, go ahead, you five, you can go explore.”

Once again, like the Chocolate Room, we all go running ‍off. Patton’s trying a little bit of everything we come across. Virgil does the same, only going a bit slower than Patton. Logan takes a seat by a bush growing ice cream sandwiches, picking one off and eating. I walk around a little longer, before finding a large angel cake. I use a nearby chocolate shard as a knife and cut a slice, before going back to sit by Logan.

“I saw you getting all flustered over Pat on the boat,” I tell him. “You should really just tell him how you feel. By the end of the day, it’ll be too late. You have limited time.”

Logan sighs. “I know… I was going to earlier, but the flume on the boat ride ruined the moment.”

“You could do it on the beach,” I suggest. “Beaches are classic confession/proposal venues in romantic movies. And Patton said this room is his personal heaven, what could be a better time? Perfect romantic mood for you two.”

“I guess you’re right… Okay. I won’t chicken out again. I’m going to take Patton to the beach and confess my feelings. Surely it cannot be that diffi-“

“LO!!!” Patton suddenly runs over, and I think, based off his wide eyes and inability to stay still, bouncing on the balls of his feet, it’s pretty obvious he currently has a very bad sugar high. “You have to come over here, there’s a milk and cookies lagoon and it’s really really really cool!” He grabs Logan’s wrist, and drags him off before the other can say anything.

I chuckle at the two of them. They are two of the worst disaster gays I’ve ever met - they’re perfect for each other.

“I see Patton’s kidnapped Logan…” Virgil’s voice catches my attention as he comes over and sits beside me, eating a flapjack. 

“Yep. Those two are so cute together… I can’t wait to find my soulmate like those two have…”

“Ah, so you’re one of those kinda of people who believe in soulmates?”

“Of course! Don’t you?”

Virgil considers it, before shrugging. “Dunno. Never really had time to think about romance or boyfriends or anything. I’ve been too focused on work and saving money for that. The closest thing I’ve gotten to a love life is judging my friend, Elliot’s choice in men.”

“Boyfriends? I’m sensing a very non-straight theme with us tour members…”

“We don’t know about Ethan,” Virgil points out, but I shake my head.

“My gaydar is very powerful. He’s definitely gay. I mean, he’s wearing a bow tie and suspenders by choice, casually.”

“True… Hey, about Ethan, I think something’s off with him… I saw him whispering into some bushes back in the Chocolate Room. It was kinda weird.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Kinda? Sounds like a bit more than kinda… Or maybe he was just talking to one of the Oompa Loompas? They’re pretty short, maybe you didn’t see them because they were stood behind the bush.”

“Maybe… I dunno, Ethan just kinda creeps me out.”

“Wow, I wonder why. Maybe it’s because half his face is that of a snake!”

Virgil shoves my arm, rolling his eyes, yet smiling. I grin back at him.

“You do that a lot. Come on, you love me really.”

Virgil crosses his arms, huffing, but still smiling. “Piss off…”

I pout, resting my chin on his shoulder. “I’m sowwy, Viwgwil. Pwease forgive me.”

“Jesus, I’m not going to forgive you when you’re doing owo speak!”

“Actually, I was doing uwu speak. Very different.” I pause. “Wait, how do you know what owo speak is? I thought you didn’t have a phone or internet.”

Virgil shrugs. “I’m friends with Remy. One of the things he does on his daily coffee shop runs is teach me current memes and internet trends.”

“Huh. Remy’s pretty cool… He single?”

“Aro.”

“Darn… Oh well. The process of elimination brings me one step closer to finding my soulmate.”

Virgil chuckles. “You are aware there are, like, over seven billion people on earth. Process of elimination isn’t gonna get you very far.”

“Well, actually, half those people are eliminated because they’re female. Another bunch because their too old or young. Another bunch because they’re straight. Another bunch because they’re looking for sexual relationships as well, which I cannot provide. Another bunch because they’re aro. That leaves a small percentage of people who could be my soulmate.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck, because it is going to take you forever to find them.” Virgil says, before reaching over and stealing a bit of my angel cake. I glare at him, before leaning over and taking a bite of his flapjack. “Hey!”

“Revenge, bitch!”

Virgil glares at me. I don’t realise he’s picked up a nearby cream pie until he slams it onto my face.

I pull it away and lick my lips. “Oh, it’s on.”

-

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I LOVE this room!

I’m knelt at the side of a lagoon of milk, dipping cookies in it and munching on them after. They’re so good! Even better than the ones Ma makes, and that’s saying something, because her’s are amazing! 

Anyway, I keep happily eating the food that graced so many of my childhood bedtimes, and I look down to where Logan is sat on the beach, looking at a small stream coming off the lagoon and going off into the lemonade ocean. “You okay, LoLo?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking at this stream. It’s extraordinary… The milk from the lagoon somehow changes to lemonade as it reaches the ocean, avoiding cross-contamination. How does it do that…?”

Awww, he’s so nerdy and curious, it’s adorable! I just wanna go over and hug him tight, and never ever ever let go, and-

Is it possible to get drunk on sugar? Because I think I might be. Just an ickle little tiny bit.

Anyway, more cookies!

“You know, Logi,” I say between bites, “you should really try that lemonade. It’s sooooo good!”

Logan looks down at the sea for a moment. “I am curious as to the effects of having a larger volume.” He scoops up some lemonade, drinking it from his hands. He wipes his mouth after. “Wow, Mr Wonka was not lying about the fizz… I already feel gassy.”

I chuckle. “You look it too. Look at your tummy!”

Logan looks down, seeing is stomach is distended. Oh! I used a smart word! ‘Distended’!

“... Okay, if that amount did that to my stomach, there is no way higher volumes can be safe,” Logan says, patting his stomach. However, doing so causes him to let out a belch, which in turn makes his stomach go down. He blushes, putting a hand over his mouth. “Oh, um, excuse me…”

I, on the other hand, burst into giggles. “Sorry, I know burp jokes and potty humour are childish, but it always makes me laugh…!”

Logan smiles. He pauses, before shuffling over and sitting beside me. “Are the cookies nice?”

I nod. “They’re even better than the lemonade! Here, try!” I pick up a cookie, dunk it in the lagoon, and shove it in Logan’s mouth.

He chuckles, biting down on the cookie. “Hm. They are pretty good.”

“Pretty good? More like the best things ever!”

Logan just shrugs. “I personally think Crofters is much better.”

“Crofters?”

“It’s a Canadian jam brand, and my absolute most favourite food in the universe. It’s so sweet and delicious, yet is completely organic. It’s even better than the jam Wonka makes.”

“Sounds nice! I’ll have to try it out sometime!”

“You should. It’s to die for.”

We sit around a little longer, eating cookies and just talking. I tell him about my job at the bakery, and different recipes I’ve come up with. He tells me about his college and classes. I don’t understand a lot of what he tells me, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to just hear him talk… He gets so passionate when he talks about learning and school…

God, he’s perfect. Maybe I should just kiss him now… Kiss his soft, perfect lips…

“Patton?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, I got distracted… What is it, Lo?”

“I, um… I wanted to tell you something…” He takes a deep breath, before reaching over and taking my hand. My own breath catches in my throat. I look back up, and meet his eyes.

“Patton… I know we only met yesterday, but I really really-“

“Excuse me, you two, but it’s been twenty minutes, we need to go meet Mr Wonka on the east beach.”

Logan curses under his breath, before turning and looking up at Ethan, who stands over us. “Thank you for informing us, Ethan. We had better get going.”

Logan stands, pulling his hand from mine. My face falls a little, but I push it aside for now, hopping to my feet and following him and Ethan to the Eastern side of the island.

After a bit of walking, Roman and Virgil join us. Logan raises an eyebrow at their food covered clothes. “What happened to you two?”

“Dessert War,” they respond in unison.

“You mean a food fight?” Ethan asks.

“It was too intense to just be a fight,” Roman replies.

“Who won?”

“Well… technically there wasn’t a winner, we just kinda stopped when Roman got a dark stain on his crop top and screamed that it cost a lot, so we stopped,” Virgil explains. “Which, if you forfeited, actually means I won!”

“Oh, you did not, I landed more hits!”

“Bullshit! That doesn’t determine the winner!”

“Does!”

“Doesn’t!”

“Does!”

“Doesn’t!”

That’s basically the rest of the conversation all the way to the eastern beach.

----------

NEXT

Remember, the ask box is always open!

Taglist: @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @clone-number-1 @pumpkinminette @why-should-i-tell-youu2

[megafarter]

Sal’s Incredible Gas pt.1

I don’t know what happened to the user Prezloop. I loved his stories and I thought they were lost but I found them (or at least the story about Sal) and I will be posting them on my page.

While boys I largely found unattractive were dancing away at a nearby dance floor, I sat at the bar by myself and ordered a bud light. I didn’t see any men who caught my eye. I felt awkward drinking by myself and was tempted to leave. Until I saw a hunk of a guy walk in with his head down who sat by himself and ordered a beer a few seats down from me. Man, he looked 35 maybe, was very tan and had short thick black hair. He had to be about 6’4 and maybe 270 lbs of big beefy muscle. He wasn’t cut like me, and I could see he had a belly, which I always secretly loved, especially because he also had a wide frame, broad shoulders, a thick massive chest and big burly arms. Best of all, he was wearing dark jeans but I could see his massive legs and huge globe ass, even though he only walked by me for a few seconds.

He looked like a real guy’s guy, someone I wanted to get to know. I tried making eye contact with this man so I could say hello, but he sat by himself staring at the tv, intentionally not making eye contact with anyone in the bar. Hell, he looked more awkward than me, despite us both drinking beer by ourselves. Normally, I’m pretty shy and would never engage with him, but the fact that he was being more awkward at the gay bar than me gave me some confidence.

I decided to walk over and approach him, but as soon as I got out of my chair, he got up and walked into the bathroom. Did he reject me? Either way, half the men at the bar saw me get up to walk toward this guy, so now I had to pretend like I was going to the bathroom to look less awkward.

Two urinals in the bathroom with no separator. Mr. Hunk of Beef was staring at the wall, pissing at one. He was tense like a statute. I grabbed the urinal next to him. He of course didn’t acknowledge me, so I stared straight ahead not acknowledging him. Though I was fighting every urge I had in me to not check out the gigantic package I knew he had, mostly because of how loud and forcefully I could hear how his thick stream sounded in the urinal. Man, this guy was turning me on. I knew I had to approach him, but I knew the bathroom wouldn’t be the place to do it. I started to devise a plan in my head and got lost in thought. Suddenly this tan god did something that actually startled me to the point where I jumped.

BrrrrrrrrPt

Holy shit. Talk about a manly fart. The tan god had ripped a short but incredibly loud fart at the conclusion of his piss. He then looked over at me with a slight smile and we made eye contact for the first time. “Sorry” he said with a slight chuckle. I wanted to say something back but I was too taken aback by how manly this guy was. I never had a fetish for farting but, I did secretly get turned on when guys did manly stuff like fart in public. And his was so deep and basey and loud. I felt like he was establishing his dominance, despite it not smelling that bad.

I suddenly became nervous like I needed to say something or compliment the fart. I wanted to play cool, because this guy seemed like a genuine’s man’s man. While he was washing his hands I walked over to the sink and said the first thing that came to my mind.

“Lucky no one was standing behind you” I said. Shit. Was that funny?

“Excuse me?” He replied. Granted it had been over a minute since the fart.

“Uhhh your fart at the urinal.” Shit, now I felt awkward. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Oh” He Smiled “Haha, believe it or not that one just slipped out of me. Sorry, I don’t know if its rude to uhh, fart, in uhhh, places like this.” He looked nervous. I took comfort in that I wasn’t the only one. Places like this? What did he mean? Gay bars? Maybe he was just as uncomfortable as me. That gave me more confidence to continue the conversation.

“I’m sure grosser things have happened in this bathroom besides your fart” Was I harping to long on his fart?

“Well that’s good, cause by my standards, that was barely even gross.” He chuckled and walked out of the bathroom. It was weird to me, that he didn’t own how awesome that fart was. Straight and manly guys love to brag about farting, and here this guy rips a gigantic one, but tries to play it off like it slipped out and was barely anything by his standards. Anything bigger than that would be inhuman. Ok so he was cocky and liked to exaggerate, which actually turned me on even more.

I walked out of the bathroom and immediately grabbed my beer and sat next to him. He looked surprised and uncomfortable but I chose to sit through it. “Names Kevin” I said extending my arm. He grabbed it back and shook it obnoxiously hard. Or maybe he was just that strong. “Sal.” Before I could respond, he cut me off to say “Can I buy you a beer Kevin” - Sal you could buy me anything you want.

“Sure, I’ll take a bud light”

Sal grabbed the bar tender. “1 bud light and 1 bud heavy”

“Bud heavy, manly drink” I teased him.

“Yeah, only problem is, it makes me gassy.” Then incredibly not two minutes after his gigantic bathroom blast, he lifted one leg on the chair and ripped and audible thumping fart on the stool. I couldn’t believe how loud the fart was because the music was playing loudly and I could still hear the fart. Jesus, could this guy just rip on command like that? Was this possible? Either way, his powerful farts were turning me on, just by their strength.

Unlike the bathroom blast this one smelled too, like pure garlic. It was pungent, and smelled awful but I secretly loved how strong the odor was. Sal fanned the air and chuckled. “Sorry about that.” Still chuckling. I chuckled back and tried to play cool despite being turned on. “All good man.”

We then switched to small talk about the patriots game on TV. Without realizing I noticed he was almost done his beer while mine was still ¾ full. Since he was ripping those manly farts, I wanted to impress him. I was pretty good at chugging beer and belching and decided to tilt my head back and chug the rest of my beer while he was speaking, which I finished in 10 seconds. I waited a few seconds before unleashing a monster belch, pretty loud even for me. I burped away from his direction. I was pretty proud of myself and glanced over at him to see how much I’d impressed him but looked un-phased. That annoyed me.

“How about another round,” – to which I agreed. I was annoyed he didn’t respond to my loud manly belch so when the bartender handed me my beer, I immedaiately chugged the entire thing without even cheersing Sal. After finishing the entire bottle in under 20 seconds, I waited a few seconds and let loose and even bigger burp than the first one, this time right in his direction. At this point, Sal stared back at me and looked very confused. Shit. Did I do too much? I wiped my mouth and apologized laughing to myself.

Sal did a slow blink. Then without respond he lightly pounded his chest with his right hand in a fist twice, before he unleashed a monster of a belch that nearly blew my hair back. It felt like it was erupting from the depths of hell, so deep and guttural. It lasted over 10 seconds too. It was so loud, He definitely the attention of the entire club. I was almost speechless. I probably should have felt embarrassed, but I was just too fucking turned on. I’ve always found burping and farting sexy in a casual manly way, but this guy just produced gas so monstrously. It was overtly sexy.

Strangest of all, Sal, barely acknowledged his burp, as he smirked lightly and went back to staring at the screen. That had to be a world record for him and I had to acknowledge it. “Shit man, that was unreal”

“Oh yeah haha.” Playing it off like it was nothing. How was this guy not acknowledging his incredible gas? It confused me. No way it was second nature for him or anyone.

A few minutes passed before Sal turned to me and said “Does this place have good food? I’m starving”

“No, but there’s a Wendy’s around the corner, I was planning on stopping there on my way home” It was getting close to closing and I needed to head out. I needed to make sure I got this guy’s number though,

“Cool, I’ll come with you” Oh my god, did he just invite himself to Wendy’s with me? I was in heaven. How did I score someone so sexy. Ok Kevin, play it cool, play it cool

We finished our beers, grabbed out coats and walked outside. As soon as he shut the door I heard him groan and then strain to push out a long squealer fart that lasted over 6 seconds. He moaned the whole time he pushed it out, and sounded incredibly relieved after he pushed it all out. Damn it sounded like he released an incredible amount of gas in just that one fart alone. Despite being outside it smelled just as bad as his indoor garlic fart. Ok suddenly this guy seemed inhuman.

“Ahhh sorry about that. Was holding it in the whole time” The whole time? He wasn’t even in inside the gay bar for more than 20 minutes total, and he had already ripped two gigantic farts, one not even 5 minutes ago. How much gas did this massive man have….?

“I’m fucking starving right now, I seriously might put this Wendy’s out of business haha” Normally I’d say he was exaggerating but this monster of a man with apparently unlimited gas supplies, was about to prove to me he had several extraordinary abilities. To be continued

[eastofthemoon]

have you ever written galra hunk? (bonus if heith

Just want to say thank you anon for giving me this prompt.  I had way too much fun with this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Title: Death Wish

Rating: PG

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Characters: Hunk, Keith, and the Yellow Lion

Summary: Hunk is a Galra mechanic who is simply trying to mind his own business as he works on a mining colony.  Yet, when he discovers an intruder he finds it hard to leave the matter alone.

It wasn’t any of Hunk’s business.  It didn’t concern him.  He was a certified mechanic for the Galra empire, and nothing outside of his job description was any of his concern.  His superiors made that clear the tic he set foot on this mining camp.

Yet, when he entered the hangar to start his repairs and spotted the intruder dressed in red, and white armour trying to hide among the crates, Hunk wasn’t certain what to do.

He seemed male, and if Hunk were to guess not much older than himself.  Hunk chewed his bottom lip.  The boy definitely wasn’t a local of the planet, and he should probably report him.  This was area was for Galra personnel only.  He should move his body and call the guards over right then. 

 But then, much to Hunk’s tradition of bad luck, the boy looked over and they locked eyes with each other.  Panic washed over the boy’s face, but his eyes narrowed, he raised his fists and looked prepared for a fight.

Hunk gulped as his grip tightened on his toolbox.  He was never much of a fighter.  It was for that reason alone he signed up to be a mechanic.  Hunk slowly reached inside his bag to use one of his tools as a makeshift weapon to defend himself.

“Hey, you!”

Hunk looked up and saw one of the guards near the entrance.

“We’re looking for intruders,” he called to him.  “Seen anything suspicious?”

Hunk glanced to the boy who was still hidden among the crates.  The intruder still looked ready to fight, but it was clear as day it was the kind of determination Hunk had seen from animals backed into a corner.

Hunk swallowed.  He should report this.  He should but-

“Nope,” Hunk said as he sweated and shrugged.  “Haven’t seen a thing!”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye.  The boy was frozen on the spot and stared at Hunk with his mouth hanging open.  Hunk locked his gaze back with the guards and prayed they weren’t able to see through his lie.

The series of curses and grumblings that followed hinted that Hunk got his wish.

“Report if you see anything,” one of the guards snapped before dashing back out of the hanger.

Hunk didn’t dare move until they were out of sight and he promptly groaned.  “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Neither can I.”

Hunk lowered his hand as the boy came out of hiding.  Oh, right, he was still here.  

Hunk pointed over his shoulder.  “Head out that way, and then take a left.  The guard there at this time of day is usually taking a nap.  Should be able to sneak out without getting caught.”

The boy frowned and crossed his arms.  “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

Hunk cringed and rubbed his neck.  “Um…because it’s not?”  He sighed.  “Look, I don’t like getting involved in this kind of stuff.”  He tossed his hands up in the air.  “If I handed you over I would have to file a report, then they would question me and I get super nervous, not to mention sweaty, and then sometimes I get gassy and-”

“Okay, okay,” the boy said as he held up his hands.  “I believe you, no need to go into details.”

Hunk slumped in relief.  “Then get going before they come back.”

The boy nodded and began to run, but paused as he ran past Hunk.  “What’s your name?”

Hunk paused and raised an eyebrow.  Seriously?  The guy was concerned with names when he should be escaping?

“Hunk,” he said with a shrug.

The boy gave a small nod as he pointed to himself.  “Mine’s Keith.”  He gave a quick wave before dashing into the exit on the other side of the hangar.

Hunk watched him go before he slumped against the wall as he let his heart return to it’s steady pace.  “Man, I hope I don’t make a habit of this.”

0808080808080808080808080808080808080808080

The rest of Hunk’s day passed by quietly like usual.  He did hear the guards mutter about intruders and they had to catch them if they wanted to keep their necks, but Hunk ignored them.

They didn’t bother with him unless one of them needed a repair on something, and frankly Hunk prefered to keep it that way.  The guards around here were rather nasty.  He personally couldn’t stomach on how they tended to treat the slaves that were forced to work in the mines, but there wasn’t much Hunk could do in that regard.

He tried to slip a slave a piece of his lunch, but got spotted by the guards and was told he was lucky they didn’t report him.  His work doubled for his next round of shifts, but he knew it was nothing compared to what the poor slave probably got.  Hunk tried not to think about it too hard.  His stomach ached with guilt when he did.

And yet, I was stupid enough to let that Keith guy escape, his logic argued.  Why did I do that?

Hunk found himself pondering this the next morning as he began to start his work on the mining equipment.  

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered to himself.  “Never seeing that guy again, and it’s not my problem-”

“Hey, Hunk.”

Hunk jumped and nearly yelped until a gloved hand covered his mouth.

“Keep it down,” Keith hissed into his large ears.  “Do you want the guards to hear?”

Hunk broke free, spun around and grabbed Keith by his shoulders.  “What the quiznack are you doing here?!”  It took all of Hunk’s will power to keep his voice low.  “Didn’t you escape yesterday?”

“Yeah, and I came back,” Keith said as he shoved Hunk’s hands off his shoulders.

Hunk opened and shut his mouth.  His brain had trouble rebooting until he could managed to squeak out a single word.  “Why?”  

Did this guy have a death wish?!  Didn’t he knew what the guards would do to him if they caught him?  Being made into a slave was the lucky option!

Keith pressed his fingers to his lips to keep quiet.  “I’m looking for something, but my friends and I haven’t had much luck.”

“Looking for something?  This isn’t the place to be searching for lost cash or something…Wait?  What do you mean ‘friends’?”

There was more than one of them?  That wasn’t good.  He could feel a knot growing in his stomach.

“My friends are searching secretly in the other parts of the mine and I didn’t lose anything,” Keith continued as he crossed his arms.  “We’re looking for something that’s suppose to be hidden here.”

Hunk arched a dubious eyebrow.  “And that ‘thing’ would be?”

Keith chewed his bottom lip.  “I…can’t tell you that.”

“That just raises more questions,” Hunk grumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “and one of them being why you’re telling me all of this?”

“Because I thought you might know where to look.”

Hunk gave him a blank look.  “You know I’m Galra, right?”

“Clearly,” Keith said as he pointed to Hunk’s purple fur.

“And you can’t tell me what it is you’re looking for?”

“Correct.”

“And you expect me to help you?” Hunk said as he tossed his hands up in the air.  “Why would I do that?”

“Because you helped me out yesterday,” Keith said as he pointed to him.  “A lot of other Galra would have just turned me in.”

Hunk shut his mouth and turned his head away.  “Yeah..well…a lot of other Galra don’t think that highly of me.”  

Keith’s expression softened a bit before he gave a sigh.  “Look, if you can just give me a map or…I don’t know tell me of some areas that haven’t been mined yet, my friends and I can find the thing we’re looking for and leave.”

Hunk sucked air between his teeth as he crossed his arms.  “I don’t know…”

“We’re not going to stop looking until we find it,” Keith stated firmly.

Which means he’s going to keep bugging me until I help him out, Hunk thought grimly.  He squeezed his eyes shut, grumbled he was going crazy before reaching into his pocket and brought out a small device.

“Here’s a holomap,” Hunk said as he hit the red button on the front and a holographic map appeared.  “This should tell you where places have been mined already and which haven’t.”  He shut it off and handed it to Keith.  “But that’s all I can do, okay?”

Keith looked over the device as he nodded.  “This is perfect, thanks.”

Hunk spun him around and began to shove him towards the exit.  “Glad to be of service, now get going!  The guards are going to be by to check in with me any tic now.”

Keith nodded before he dashed out of the hangar, and Hunk found himself alone again with his thoughts.

He shook his head as he tried to focus back on his work.  Yet, tried as he might, questions drifted into his mind.

None of it made sense.  Just what could be so valuable that was hidden inside a mine that someone would risk getting killed over?  

“Oh, well, doesn’t matter I guess,” Hunk muttered as he reached for another tool.  “It’s got nothing to do with me and I won’t be seeing that guy again.”

08080808080808080808080808080808080808080808080

“Do you have a death wish?” Hunk stated dryly.

Keith turned from where he had been leaning against a boulder and shrugged.  “Ah, no, not particularly.”

“Really?” Hunk snapped as he dropped his toolbox and stomped forward.  “Could have fooled me with you waiting outside just begging for a guard to arrest you!”

Keith narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward.  “The guards don’t bother to come to this entrance at this time of day, and seeing you were the last mechanic in there I figured they weren’t monitoring you that close when you left.”

Hunk blinked as his big ears twitched.  “You got the guards patrol rounds memorized?”

“Had a friend look it up for me,” Keith said as he stepped forward.  “I need your help.”

“I already helped you,” Hunk cut in as he tossed his hands up in the air.  “Didn’t we agree that was all I can do?”

Keith held up his hands.  “I know, but this will be the last time, I promise.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”  Hunk crossed his arms and wondered briefly if he should just call the guards over.  “What do you want?”

“I found the thing my friend and I were looking for, but we can’t get it out.”  Keith’s eyes softened.  “And, I have a feeling, you’re the only one who can get it out.”

Hunk tilted his head in confusion.  “Why?  Is it a broken machine or something?”  He was good at fixing things, even if his superiors didn’t seem to appreciate this skill.

“Kind of,” Keith said slowly as he rubbed his neck.  “Can you just come with me and take a look?”

Hunk felt a knot in his stomach.  This was getting way more involved than he liked to do.  “I don’t know…”

“Just come with me to this old mine shaft.”  Keith brought out the holomap and pointed.  “I’ll show you what it is, and if you don’t want to help, I swear I’ll never seek you out again.”

Hunk frowned.  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“Because I always do,” Keith replied with what sounded like full sincerity.

Hunk tugged at one of his ears.  The knot in his stomach argued he should leave then and now, but…there was something about Keith that just made him want to help.  The said shaft should be empty and the guards wouldn’t be around it at this time of day.

“Fine, I’ll come,” Hunk said as he gestured to Keith to lead the way.  “Although, this is against my better judgement.”

Keith gave a smile as they began to walk, and Hunk wondered just what exactly he was getting himself into.

0808080808080808080808080808080808080808080

The mine shaft was dark thanks to the workers not bothering installing lights into this section, at least not yet.  Thankfully, the light on Keith’s helmet lighted their path and Hunk kept close despite his hands shaking.

This is the most stupidest thing I’ve ever done, Hunk thought.  I’m walking into a mine shaft, with a complete stranger.  For all I know, he’s planning on turning around to stab me at any moment.  Why did I come?  I should turn around right now and-

“You doing okay?” Keith asked as he looked behind.

Hunk tossed his anxious thoughts aside and gave a shaky smile.  “Um…doing great here…and not thinking of running back at all.  Nope.  Not at all.”

Keith either believed him or didn’t give it must thought as he turned back to look ahead.  “We’re almost there.  We’ll be over with this soon.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hunk said as he rubbed his neck.  “I’ve been wondering, but why can’t your friends help you with this?”

“They’re not here, at least not right now,” Keith said with a sheepish grin.  “We tried to get it out, and when we couldn’t we left to form a new plan.”  He looked to Hunk.  “But then I thought of asking you.”

“So, they don’t know you’re with me?” Hunk said and was answered with a nod.  

Yeah, that made sense.  Not many people trusted Galra, and to be fair, if Hunk was in these people’s shoes he would be reluctant to trust any Galra he encountered.

Suddenly, a growl echoed throughout the tunnels and Hunk jumped.  He whirled around ready for any attack.  “W-what was that?!”

Keith’s frown tightened.  “What was what?”

Hunk gaped at him.  “That loud growl!  Did you not hear it?!”

Keith shook his head.  “Uh…no, I didn’t hear anything.”

Hunk lowered his arm as he ran a hand over his hair.  “But..I could have sworn I heard something…”

Another growl came and Hunk shoved Keith behind him.  “There!  Tell me you heard that one!”

“Hunk, I’m not hearing anything,” Keith said as he placed his hands on his arms.  “You’re probably just hearing…Oh.”

Hunk turned his head around to Keith.  “What?”

Keith pressed his lips together in deep thought.  “Um…I think I know what you’re hearing, and if I’m right then we’re really close to that..’thing’ I’m after.”

“How are you still talking about that when we could have a wild animal on our hands here?!”

Hunk’s heart was beating rapidly.  He really couldn’t take this kind of stress.

Keith made no reply as he tugged on Hunk’s arm and dragged him forward.  “Come on, it’s just up ahead here.”

“I seriously question your priorities,” Hunk growled as they moved around a corner and entered a wide chamber.  “I’m hearing something growling and you’re just-”

He lost all train of thought as his eyes stared ahead.  The chamber was lit up by a bright yellow ball of light.  Hunk wasn’t certain what he was seeing until he realized said ball was a barrier of some kind, and inside that barrier was a giant yellow robot lion.

Hunk gulped and gradually turned his face back to Keith’s.  “That ‘thing’ you were looking for,” he said as he pointed, “please tell me this isn’t it.”

“It is,” Keith said as he stepped in front of Hunk.  “It’s one of the robot lions to form Voltron.”

“Voltron?” Hunk said as mused over the name.  “Where have I heard of that-”

His brain stopped.  Voltron.  The legendary giant robot.  The robot that was said to slice ships into half.  The weapon that Emperor Zarkon had been after long before Hunk was even born.

Hunk’s face paled.  “Oh, quiznack.”

“I’m a Paladin of Voltron,” Keith continued.  “I fly the red lion.”

No.  No.  No.  THIS WAS NOT HAPPENING!

“We found all the other lions except for yellow,” Keith explained and pointed to the lion.  “We were hoping it would accept Allura, but it didn’t and it’s impossible to get it to lower it’s barrier and-”

Hunk covered his his ears.  “La la la!  I’m not listening to this!  La la la!  I see nothing!  I HEAR NOTHING!”

“Hunk!” Keith exclaimed as he grabbed his hands and pulled them down.  “Look, calm down-”

“Calm down!” Hunk screamed so loud he was positive some of the rocks shook.  “I am talking to a Paladin of Voltron, who I am assuming is fighting against Zarkon and I could get arrested for just talking to you AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?!”

“YES!” Keith yelled as he gripped his wrists.  “Look, I know this is probably shocking, but I brought you down here because I thought you could help me get it out of here.”

“ME?! ARE YOU NUTS?!” Hunk yanked his hands free and tugged at his ears.  “I know nothing about this thing and furthermore why would I?!”

“Because you don’t like what the empire is doing,” Keith shot back with a hard look.

Hunk went silent.  “I..I don’t know-”

“I’ve watched you while I’ve been searching this place since you’ve helped me out,” Keith crossed his arms, “and I heard the guards grumble about you trying to help out some slaves.  You can’t expect me to believe you like what Zarkon is doing if that’s how you act.”

Hunk’s hands dropped and turned his face away.  “Alright..fine you caught me,” he said softly.  “I hate it, even when I was a cub it..it never sat right with me.”  He shook his head.  “But what good does that do?  There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Yes, there is,” Keith said as he pointed to the lion.  “You could help me.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow.  “By freeing the lion?”

Keith cleared his throat.  “Well…that and,” he rubbed his neck, “becoming the paladin for the yellow lion.”

Hunk was silent.  He stared at Keith with wide unblinking eyes.  “Did you inhale some toxic fumes…because I thought you just suggested I become a paladin.”

“That’s what I said,” Keith insisted.

“Are you nuts?!” Hunk cried and placed a hand over his chest.  “I’m scared of my own shadow?!  My nerves get wreck just from trying to speak up!  What makes you think I’m a potential paladin?!”

Keith’s shoulders slumped.  “Honestly…it’s just a gut feeling, I..I can’t explain it.”  He looked back to Hunk.   “But that fact you managed to hear the yellow lion, I think proves we’re on the right track here.”

“Hear the lion?” Hunk scratched his head.  “What are you talking?”

The growls came again.  Hunk jumped and spun around, but again there was nothing.  Then another growl came, but this was more reassuring and gentle.  It kind of reminded him of how his grandfather use to calm him down when he was scared.

Slowly, Hunk turned his head until his eyes landed on the yellow lion.  Somehow, Hunk instantly knew the growling was coming from the giant robot lion.

“You can’t hear that…can you?” he asked without taking his eyes off of the lion.

Keith shook his head.  “A paladin can only hear their own lion.”  He placed a hand on Hunk’s shoulder.  “I think the yellow lion really wants you as it’s paladin.”

Hunk swallowed.  “What…makes you so certain you can trust me?”  Hunk turned to him.  “I mean..for all you know I could take off with this ship and hand it over to Zarkon.”

“From how Allura described the yellow lion’s tastes in paladins, I doubt it would pick someone who would do that.”  His shoulders dropped.  “And..honestly, my gut has a good feeling about you.”

“You trust way too much on your gut, man,” Hunk commented.

Keith smiled a little.  “Yeah…probably.”  He took back his hand.  “With that said, if you really don’t want to become a paladin, I’ll understand.”  Keith stepped back.  “We’ll leave right now, and I promise I’ll never approach you about it again.”

Hunk was quiet as he looked to Keith and then back to the lion.  The growls had turned into content purrs.

He should go back.  He should leave his place and never think of it again.  He could go back to fixing ships and trying to stay out of the guards way.

And also helplessly watch people being hurt and abused right in front of him.

Hunk lifted his large hand, and without a second thought, placed it on the barrier.  The yellow barrier vanished, and the yellow lion bowed it’s head to him.

Keith smiled and placed a hand on Hunk’s shoulder.  “Welcome to the team.”

Hunk nodded as he stepped towards the lion and started to think that perhaps he was the one with a death wish.

[standingontheedgeinstilettos]

10,000 Screams at 10,000 Feet

I figure if I can write about, scrutinize, poke fun of, and point out the flaws of TV caricatures in a series about women I can offer you a story here and there doing the same thing to myself.  This is one of those stories.

I recently went on our first “Family Vacation” which, I guess by definition, included our ten month old daughter.  Up until this point, my husband and I had either gone on vacation without her (Parents of the Year!) or we would take her down to Southern California to visit my husband’s family for a weekend, entailing only a wee one hour flight each way. In my naivety, I concluded that all the eventless one hour flights we had taken her on meant that the five hour flight to and from the island of Kauai would likely go smoothly and too be eventless.  For the flight into Lihue, I could not have been more right.  

For the flight home, I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG.

Babies are like adorable, squishy, loveable little landmines.  If you step carefully around them with just the right amount of pressure wearing the correct equipment with radar capabilities, you will probably be fine.  But if one thing goes wrong, then BAM!  You’re not dead but you sort of wish you could be. So you do anything you can to ensure all is exactly how it should be in order for your baby to be the perfect happy angel he or she is as long as he or she is not hungry, tired, gassy, stuffed up, teething, over-fed, under-clothed, etc.  The problem with flying is that you cannot control all elements and one minor upset can throw the whole game.

We planned our flights perfectly around our beloved landmine.  We booked morning flights (A MUST), made sure to purchase the Tall People Row, and we bought a ticket for the baby so she would have her own space for her car seat, as well as the space under our feet should the need for “play-time” arise, also giving us our own row.  She slept the first two and a half hours and coo-ed for the next leg until we arrived on the way over.  Where I started slightly nervous, I was now feeling pretty cocky.

Our flight home was to leave Lihue at 11:15am, so we did the parent-dance of “Do we nap her early or keep her awake for a bit and hope she passes out as soon as we board?”  We chose the latter.  A decision which will haunt me for weeks to come.  With the condo locked up and keys returned, we said Mahalo and Aloha to Poipu and headed to the airport.  We pulled up to find an agent at the curb gently bearing the news that our flight had been delayed until 3pm.  Luckily we still had the rental car so we checked in all our luggage and decided to drive around the island for a few hours, as surely the baby would nap in the car.  

The baby did not nap in the car.

The baby sang to herself, talked to the clouds, played with her shade cover, inspected her pacifier for dust particles, found all ten of her toes and checked on us periodically, but sleep the baby did not.

When we returned to the airport at 2pm, we just knew she would sleep for HOURS on the flight.  Was she over-tired?  Yes!  But how can you not pass out after all of this?  Surely she may fuss a bit while on a tarmac but start that engine and this baby is Dunzo.

Because I’m an insane person, I always want to be the first one on the plane.  Let me get my bearings!  So there we sat while the other 200 people boarded.  Sailor, the antagonist of this story AKA The Baby, was quite fussy during the boarding process.  For 30 minutes, she wanted out of her car seat, she wanted to be lifted to the tiny air spout so she could eat the air, she wanted this, that, the other thing. I was like, Can I live?  So I gave her a bottle.  That’ll do it.  

Once the boarding process was complete, we began to taxi.  We taxied to the runway where we sat for the suspicious amount of time that makes you say to yourself, “WHAT THE HELL ARE WE WAITING FOR??” and then, with more sadness, “SOMETHING MUST BE WRONG.”  Meanwhile, the bottle had no effect on my exhausted little creature.  She was starting to get that psychotic look in her eye like a POW who has been tortured with lack of sleep and feels they have nothing to lose.  I began to get more nervous.

Then, the dreaded loud speaker.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, folks….due to the delay of the flight, there’s now an issue in that myself and my co-pilot here will be over our hours if we fly you to San Jose. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, we’re trying to negotiate so that we can get you home today, so just hang tight for us.”

The baby is not settling, there’s no motion or ambient noise to help out with that, I’m hyper-sensitive to how other people feel and to what they think of me so now I’m really starting to freak out.  This is beginning to feel like a perfect storm.  After hanging out on the runway for about 45 minutes worth of negotiations and failing at my own negotiations with my infant, I resort to giving her yet another bottle.  It’s basically the CliffsNotes of parenting.

“Problem?  Let’s feed her!”

Moments later we are cleared for take-off.  Seconds after revving the engine, I notice my little snowflake closing her eyes. Within minutes of leaving the ground she completely passed out.

The End.

JUST KIDDING

I would say no more than 7 minutes into the flight, right after I had smiled coyly to my husband, patted his arm like I do when we’re well into the air and seemingly safe from plummeting back down to Earth (oh, did I mention I don’t love to fly?) out of a dead silence that seemed out of place on an aircraft full of people, my child straight zombie apocalypses out of her car seat like she’s just been possessed by the Devil himself and is SCREAMING at the top of her lungs over and over and over.  I am not talking about crying.  I am talking about actual screaming like whoever was sitting next to her (me) stabbed her in the leg with a steak knife.  And I mean over and over and over, the only reprieve being the silence that occurred when she had run out of breath, her face and lips purple, for the seconds before she was able to take another huge breath and give us another blood-curdling scream.

Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?  

It was as if I was looking at it happening to someone else.  Like I left my body and was all, “Peace, ya’ll!  I’m out.”

My husband and I are looking at each other with desperate, wild eyes while mouthing, “I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW!” because you couldn’t hear anything above the screams.  I’m looking around at the other passengers staring bewildered and frightened at my possessed child but no one seems to be doing anything to help which was confusing to me.  Clearly we need to land this thing!  She needs medical attention!  Is there a medic on board??

I’m furiously rocking her, kissing her head, telling her it’s ok, IT’S OK FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!  But nothing at all was calming her.  She had never had an ear pressure issue on an airplane, and this didn’t sound like the millions of babies I had heard on other flights during take-off and landing.  No, this was something serious.  Something evil was happening here.

I know you’re wondering, “How long did this last??”

I have no idea.  It felt like an eternity but I think it was mere minutes.  I never even heard the seatbelt sign go off when, as I’m rocking and freaking out and my husband is digging through my bag for some sort of miracle or maybe muzzle (or a mallet), a woman approaches us.  With a faint accent, she says,

“I can breastfeed your baby?”

I’ll leave that there for a second.

 “What??” my husband and I ask simultaneously.  Surely we didn’t hear that right over the screams.

“I can breastfeed your baby for you!”  Oh ok, that’s what she said.

Over the piercing, deafening noises coming from my lap, my husband yells, “She doesn’t breast feed!”

“Yes but sometimes it’s comforting for a baby if you breast feed!  And my baby is back there but he’s done for now so I can help your baby!”

We’re literally yelling this conversation.

I swear on everything to you guys that if I thought that would have actually helped the situation, I would have let that woman breast feed my baby.  She seemed clean, and sober.  I would have said, “Only if you take her back to your seat to do it,” and handed her on over.  But my kid hasn’t breast fed since I found out at 8 weeks I was accidentally starving her by producing no more than about a half an ounce of milk a day.  The last time she saw my nipple it had been a while and she thought it was a toy.  And she was in no mood for toys.  The last thing I needed was this lady busting out her boob and having my already embarrassing child angrily flick the shit out of it.

While I’m trying to process what is currently happening, my husband is still trying to explain to this woman that our baby would not know how to breast feed but thank you for the offer. She responded, “It was my husband’s idea!”

This just keeps getting better.

It was my husband, Eric, who found as he was trying to console her with me that her belly felt really tight.

“Did you feed her both those bottles?!”

“Maybe!”

At this point, had Alaska Airlines provided me with a parachute, I would have jumped. Actually, had they just agreed to open one of the doors I would have jumped.

I quickly leapt into action and grabbed from my bag of tricks the infant anti-gas medication.  I squirted it from an uncomfortable distance into her GAPPING HOLE OF A MOUTH, and this momentarily caught her off-guard. I then turned her around so her belly was in my hand, got up and started bouncing her up the aisle patting her back and rubbing her tummy.  I look back to see Eric half-standing helplessly at our seats, shooting me a look that said, “IS IT WORKING?!”  And by some miracle, it was.  She began to settle down and she stopped making the sound equivalent of the Game of Thrones “Red Wedding” episode.

My little Landmine had exploded mid-air, and had left around 200 people in the wake of her disaster.  Passengers were traumatized.  As I looked at their faces, they all said, “WHEN WILL SHE GO OFF AGAIN???”  I was also traumatized, and asked myself the same thing.  After she had settled down I was able to take stock of how I was feeling and it wasn’t pleasant.  I was noticeably trembling, and my anxiety level was at about a million.  I hate flying anyway because of the lack of control and the feeling of being stuck somewhere and not able to get out.  I felt this 100 times more than I normally do flying because I wanted out SO BAD.  In the world, I can do things to fix my child.  I can leave her in her goddamn crib for one thing if she’s having a fit.  I can let her cry it out a bit when I’ve made the parenting fail of letting her get too tired before I put her down for a nap.  I can hold her and comfort her while she cries in a normal situation and have only my own biological response to deal with, not a plane full of strangers’ responses.

After taking stock of my physical response to chaos, I realized I had been walking up and down the aisle for about 45 minutes.  The baby was now coo-ing deliriously at fellow passengers, chirping at other kids and babies she spotted, wigging, giggling, but still with sort of a demonic tinge to it all.  Clearly babies are not meant to be awake for this long.  It’s hard to understand the concept that the longer you wait to let them sleep the harder it becomes for them to sleep.  I knew this, but the flight schedule had screwed us up so royally, we were stuck with this hand of cards.

I sat back down and went to put her in her car seat.  Surely she’ll pass out now.  NOPE.

She cried every time I tried to put her in her car seat.  And because now I’m beyond obsessed with what other people are feeling and thinking about my normally adorable and well-behaved family, I pop back up to walk her up the aisle again.  Eric takes her from me and begins pacing with her.  In the spirit of my one of my favorite movies, “Bridesmaids,” I barged through the First Class curtain, walked straight up to the flight attendant and said, “Excuse me ma’am, may I please have a glass of alcohol?”

I downed a plastic cup of vodka like it was water and I had been climbing my way out of the Sahara Desert for days.

Eric comes back with my happy psychosis baby and attempts to sit down.

“WAHHHHHHHHHH”

Awesome.  Fucking awesome.

I pop back up.  Eric says, “Babe, it is what it is.  We can’t do anything, they can’t do anything.  We’re on an airplane.  We may just have to let her cry until she goes to sleep.”

AND LET ALL OF THESE PEOPLE JUDGE ME AND THINK I DON’T CARE ABOUT THEIR TRIP HOME AND THEIR FEELINGS AND THAT THEY CAN HEAR THEIR DVDs AND THAT MY BABY SUCKS???  Not in this lifetime.

“I’ll walk her.”

The truth is, I was doing it more for me at that point.  I was wound tighter than a top and had to spin in order not to combust.  I at least needed to pace until the vodka kicked in.

It never did.

I walked that baby up and down the aisle for three hours.  At one point during meal service I basically paced around the back bathrooms for an hour.  We made friends with all the other baby-parents on board who of course felt horrible for me but I looked at their peaceful children and hated them, despite myself.  I noticed the lady who offered to breast feed my kid and felt like maybe I should ask her to breast feed me for comfort at this point.  I bet her husband would be on board!  Another mother was traveling with her daughter and grandson.  We got to chatting.  I would tell anyone who listened the whole spiel you go through, “She’s never like this, it’s just she’s getting four new teeth on top and she didn’t get to nap because of the delay and I think I might have overfed her and caused a massive gas bubble, it’s all my fault really just don’t blame her, she’s perfect….”

The grandmother said to me, “I had three girls and we lived in Alaska and flew all the time.  I used to give them infant Benadryl.  It seems to help with the pressure, or if nothing else it really knocks them out….”

She continues hesitantly,

“You know, I don’t know if you’re comfortable, but we have some with us if you’d like to give it to her.”

I just looked at her. This woman has watched me walk up and down this aisle for three hours and is just now offering to help me drug my child??  At least Boob Lady saw her calling and went for it!

“Yes, I’m extremely comfortable!!  Please give it to me immediately!”

She looked a little startled but pulled it out.  I may have been a bit too grabby, but this was the point where I was ceasing to care. FIVE HOURS ON THIS PLANE.  Yes, I’m drugging my baby.

The vodka never did kick in.

I didn’t want to be greedy. I didn’t want to go straight to trying to get her to sleep, I needed to give it time for the drugs to kick in.  I continued to walk her for another 30 minutes. I literally felt when the Benadryl began working.  Her little body unclenched altogether.  She began to rub her eyes.

OH MY GOD. THIS IS IT.   I took her back to our seats.  My husband, who had been switching off with me periodically, stood up assuming it was his turn.  I looked him dead in the eye: “No.  I think this is it.”

“Really??  OK.  Let me change her diaper so she’s dry.  We can put her in a sleeper and she can be down for the night.”

“Great,” I said as I picked up a second drink he had ordered me long enough ago the ice had all melted and I threw it down with a shudder.

He returned from the diaper change, we slipped her into pjs and strapped her into her chair.  I covered it with a swaddle.  She did not immediately go to sleep, but instead cooed quietly to herself, reflected on the trip, found her toes again.

Is this it?  Could it be?  She’s quiet, she’s happy, SHE’S HERSELF.  I couldn’t get comfortable with it, but I surrendered to the moment and pulled out the iPad to start a movie.

That’s when I smelled it. And I tried to ignore it.  I denied it altogether.  

“It’s something else. It’s someone else.”

But I knew it wasn’t. And it was becoming too much to deny. Everyone would know it was her. The worst baby they had ever flown with, and now the stinkiest.

“We’ve got a poopy diaper now.”

I grabbed the wipes and a new diaper and began my familiar journey up the aisle.  Once inside, I realized my giant monster-sized baby just barely fit on the make-shift airplane bathroom changing table.  As I laid her down and unzipped to inspect the damage, I realized we were looking at quite the situation here.  Those two bottles and that Hawaiian hearty lunch didn’t turn into rainbows and sunshine.

Did I mention I was wearing all white?

I peeled off her poop-covered sleeper.  I began the clean-up process.  It was a slaughter.  She’s wriggling around, getting it on her feet, legs, arms.  I’m cleaning up after her every slight move that is transferring the substance left and right, up and down.  There’s no room so if I pay too much attention to her butt I notice I’m accidentally banging her head up against the wall which causes her to start yelling at me.  Once I have the diaper on her, I realized there was no redressing her obviously since her previous sleeper had been painted in feces.

“Here she comes, Miss America….”

As I walk-of-shame down the aisle with a naked baby in one arm and poopy pjs in the other, my doped-up infant is literally waving to each aisle, blowing kisses and raspberries, asking them how their flight has been, thanking them all for coming.  

When I get back to our row, Eric and I stealthily peel on the new sleeper.  I strap her in her car seat and cover it with the swaddle.  I put the pacifier in her mouth and one-handed shake the car seat to force a soothing vibration.  As the moments tick on, her little feet go from kicking happily, to twitching, to stillness.  Could it be? I peek under the swaddle and there she is; mouth open, eyes closed, breathing heavily, as peaceful as can be.  It’s impossible to look at her and believe it’s the same baby who gave off demon screams and displayed the stamina of a Tasmanian devil on crystal meth.  But I think this is the wonder that is being a parent.  After all of that, I thought she was the sweetest thing in the whole wide world, and wanted to wake her up because I already missed her.

That second part is a total lie.

The landing announcements began, and I was still completely anxiety-ridden and thought, “If you wake her up now, you’ll pay for it.”  Eric said, “It’s over now, we’re here.”

“We’re not ‘here,’ we’re like ten minutes from ‘here,’” I snapped.

She woke up when we landed, looked at me and smiled.  She smiled while we waited for the stroller at the gate.  One woman commented she thought we did great and that we stayed so calm.  I wanted to tell her that’s because I died inside about four and a half hours ago.

When we were finally in the car on our way home, I turned to my husband.

“That was awful.  Was that not awful?  Was it one of those things where it could have been worse?”

He sighed.  “No, I’m pretty sure that’s about as bad as it gets.”

I felt vindicated in this moment.  I can never quite tell if I’m being dramatic about a situation, if I’m over-reacting because I don’t handle stress well at all.  But my logical husband confirmed for me that what we just experienced was traumatic.  Even when I finally hit the pillow, I played the whole thing over and over in my head, suffering from a slight case of PTSD.  I felt like I’d been through something that made me stronger.  I guess I’ve been welcomed into the Parenting Club officially. I’ll consider myself hazed.

And by the way, that second drink never kicked in either.  Apparently, adrenaline is alcohol’s kryptonite.